


Wolfenwood’s Creation

by SaintMilk



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Also everyone is batshit insane, Frankenstein but Gay, Inspired by Frankenstein, M/M, lots of death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27055042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintMilk/pseuds/SaintMilk
Summary: its just gay frankenstein.
Relationships: Barchen/Edgar Wolfenwood
Comments: 3





	1. it's ok, i'm here.

Savage winds and hostile rain beat against the chipping bricks of the Wolfenwood manor. Hidden deep within the manor’s silent halls, one room had been violated, trespassed upon when it was intended to stay forever vacant. The room was to be a sanctuary, a last memorial to the tragic departure of Eleanore Wolfenwood. Though now, it had become a refuge for a man who lay on its decrepit floorboards, curled into himself. Silent sobs left his lips as he hid from the world, trying to completely erase his own existence. His hands had been balled into fists for so long there were crescent moon shaped scars in his calloused palms. Blood leaked from his right nostril, trickling gradually down his sweat moistened face. The tears had dried against his cheeks, the tracks becoming faint, salty memories lingering on his skin. The typically gently drooping eyelids of the young man were now clenched, desperately attempting to shut out the world. Chapped lips mumbled frenzied ramblings to no one but himself. His teeth clattered as he tried to sound out syllables, trying feebly to bring himself back from the brink. Even in his panicked state, the man was a Doctor. He knew that if this psychotic episode lasted much longer, he would start to lash out on himself physically. 

“Ein... Zwei, drei...” The Doctor’s voice, shaky and ravaged by his endless sobs, echoed down the hollow corridors. The only living bodies to hear the Doctor’s cries were the cockroaches eating away at mold ridden food in the dining hall. Counting in his mother’s language commonly helped tranquilize him during one of his episodes. The numbers would bring back the memory of his mother making him repeat each number until he had them memorized. However, the Doctor struggled to even recall his mother’s face, her radiant features now just a distant memory. The Doctor’s toes cracked as he curled them into the pads of his feet, his entire body contracting as he rolled onto his side. A trembling groan left cracked lips that soon erupted into a blood curdling scream. Thin, spindly fingers shot up and into his scalp, grasping wads of disheveled auburn hair. Practiced hands tugged and pulled at the strands, carelessly attempting to yank them out of his own head. The intrusive thoughts were returning, wailing at him. They screamed in unison, telling the Doctor how much of a failure he was. How could he let his own mother die? How could he be such a fool to not have realized she was ill? He should have gotten sick, not her. She didn’t deserve to die, not when she was so young. It was his fault for letting her die, he deserved to suffer for what he has done. Jagged fingernails dug into his scalp and agonizingly scraped down his face, leaving long, red marks in their wake.

A deafening clap of thunder roared throughout the manor, ending the brutal silence that had reigned for so long. Lightning broke across the sky like shattered glass, lighting up the sky. A branch of lightning struck the grand metallic spires at the peak of Wolfenwood Manor. The sounds of rusty gears churning and machinery chugging echoed down the decilit halls as one by one, each dusty lightbulb flickered on. Not far from the sanctuary, The Doctor’s lab had come to life, beginning the procedure the Doctor had been anticipating for weeks. Though, preoccupied with his current state, the Doctor hadn’t noticed as his manor came to life. The gentle hum of the rudimentary lightbulbs wasn’t powerful enough to overcome the endless howling of self-deprecating thoughts still swarming his brain. The tumultuous noise in the lab only grew more boisterous as the machinery performed their functions on one single creation. Every machine was hooked into it, breathing life into the beast once more. Sat in the center of the laboratory on a frigid metal table lay the Doctor’s magnum opus.  
Bärchen was stunning, even in his slumbering state. Gigantic, the creature stood at 6’7 and weighed over 400 pounds, just the way his Doctor had designed him. Long, black locks flowed from his head, falling down to his lower back. The strands obscured his face, hiding away his features. Only the Doctor was allowed to see his face, anyway. Lifeless eyes hidden behind his curtain of hair slowly fluttered open. The creature felt rejuvenated after his rest, and took a moment to inspect his body, looking for any new additions his doctor might have added. At the thought of the Doctor, his eyes widened in panic. Typically, the Doctor was with him when he awoke, fawning all over his creation. Bärchen made a noise of confusion that rumbled out of his chest. Lethargically, the beast rose to his feet, stumbling as he stood from lack of practice. A large hand reached up to scratch at the back of his neck uncomfortably. How long had he been asleep? His enormous feet thundered against the floorboards as he made his way across the manor, searching high and low for his creator. Bärchen felt anxiety build in his hefty gut, knowing that the Doctor must be having an episode. Bärchen hated to see his creator suffer, and especially hated that he couldn’t be by his side to help him. The creature desperately wanted to call out for his doctor, scream his name from the highest point he could reach, but he knew his voice couldn’t handle the strain and would give out immediately. Rubbing his hands together anxiously, the creature walked down the furthest hall of the manor. At the end sat Eleanore’s room, her door creaked just slightly open. Relief washed over the raven haired man as he knew his doctor was inside the room somewhere, hidden away. Gently, the patchwork man placed his hand on the splintering wood of the door and quietly pushed it open. Scanning the room quickly and determining the Doctor wasn’t out, he knelt on the floor. Pressing his face against the icy wooden floorboards, he peered under the bed. Under the murky mattress, pressed against the wall lay the Doctor. He was huddled into himself, hiding away as if ashamed of his own existence. His legs were hugged tightly to his chest, face buried into his knees. The Doctor’s entire body shook with each shuddering breath. Very cautiously, Bärchen reached out and touched his rough fingertips to the top of the Doctor’s head. He felt the Doctor tense under his touch, clearly frightened by the forgein feeling of kindness. Bärchen opened his mouth, trying to force out a word, but his throat still wouldn’t let him. He grumbled quietly, trying to ground the doctor and let him know that his creation was there, but it was too late. The Doctor was moving away from his touch, shifting out of his grasp. Bärchen let out a sigh through his nose, knowing that he would have to bring his Doctor back the hard way.

In one swift motion, Bärchen’s enormous hands lunged outward and wrapped around the Doctor’s back. The Doctor immediately started to screech, struggling in his monster’s grasp, but Bärchen didn’t react. Pulling him close, he pressed the Doctor against his body, forcing him to rest against the patchwork creature’s chest. The raven haired best sat up, holding the Doctor close and holding him hostage in his lap. Bärchen held the Doctor close as he continued to scream and thrash in his creation’s grasp. Keeping his eyes closed, he bit into his monster’s hand and kicked at his large gut, twisting and turning every which way he could, determined to escape. Bärchen just stayed still, completely unphased by the Doctor’s tantrum. Eventually, the Doctor stopped biting him, settling instead to scream at his monster. 

“LET ME GO! I DESERVE THIS, I DESERVE THIS!” The auburn haired man cried out, hot tears flowing freely down his reddened face. He continued to wail and beat against his creation with every ounce of strength he could muster. Slowly, his energy started to run dry. He freely wept as he finally ran out of energy, succumbing to Bärchen’s grasp. He slumped against his patchwork creation’s shoulder, burying his head in his neck and hiccuping quietly. Soft sniffles occasionally left the man as he caught his breath. The monster let go of his doctor’s hands, tucking the man’s disheveled hair behind his ear. Bärchen moved gently with very subtle movements so as to not scare his doctor. Leaning down, Bärchen pressed his warm lips to the doctor’s ear and forced out a single word.

“Edgar.” His voice was barely audible and extremely hoarse, but the Doctor heard him clearly. Edgar’s eyes finally opened, staring shocked at his creation. For the first time since Bärchen’s arrival, Edgar had finally realized his creation was awake. Frantically he scanned the creature up and down, as if assuring his existence, that the monster was really there. The Doctor sputtered, completely lost. The creature took the Doctor’s hand and gently placed it against his cold cheek, trying to assure the doctor that he was real. As soon as the Doctor’s hand made contact with his creature’s skin, a grin spread across the man’s face like spilt ink. “Meine Geschöpf!” The Doctor’s resolve changed in an instant, his grin beaming with joy. With cold hands he grabbed his creature’s face, examining his features closely. He poked and prodded, squishing his cheeks and running his fingers over each individual scar. He pressed his forehead against Bärchen’s, breathing as deeply as he could, trying to inhale as much of his creature’s scent as possible. “I’ve missed you so much.” Edgar’s voice was so soft, a colossal contrast from his screams begging for death. Edgar’s saddened eyes bore into Bärchen’s lifeless ones as he reached up to place a soft kiss on his creation’s forehead. 

“Wasn’t gone that long, Doc.” Bärchen’s hoarse voice spoke before he licked his finger and attempted to clean the dried blood crusted on Edgar’s thin upper lip. Edgar’s brows knitted together as his entire face scrunched up in clear disagreement. Bärchen’s head tilted in confusion. Bärchen had not felt like he was out for longer than normal. The creature had assumed he’d gone down for a few hours for his scheduled monthly fixing where Edgar would repair any damage his body had sustained. Edgar shook his head vigorously until Bärchen grabbed his head and forced him to stop. The Doctor ran his shaky fingertips across his creature’s furrowed brows and down his cold cheeks. “Meine Liebling, you’ve been out cold for weeks. Ha! HAHA!” The loud laughter started as Edgar anxiously began to bite into white knuckles, thinking back to his lonely weeks without his counterpart. Bärchen pulled his hand away from his mouth, restraining his thin wrists once more. Bärchen’s silence and confused expression asked more than his words could. “No storms. Zeus decided he hated me and didn’t give me nothing! Not a single boom of thunder till now! Swore I was gonna start hearing voices if you didnt come back. ” Edgar tried to make an exploding gesture with his hands, forgetting they were being restrained. He leant down, nuzzling his nose against his monster’s shoulder.

“M’just happy you’re awake. So quiet without your big ol feet pounding down the halls to scare away the roaches. Those little buggers keep stealing my food, think they made a deal with the vermin.” The doctor continued his ramblings as Bärchen picked him up. Bärchen carried him away from his mother’s sanctuary, Edgar far too tired to notice the change in scenery. His episodes always wore him down completely, knocking the man out for a few hours at least. The beast took the doctor to his chambers. His room was practically a library, with old books stacked in every corner. Each one had been read cover to cover at least four times They were piled up everywhere, and no matter how many times Bärchen attempted to clean, they seemed to just end up back on the floor. A bed sat unused toward the back of the room, Edgar preferring to fall asleep at his desk most nights. A desk was in the opposite corner, covered in sketches of future projects Edgar had planned. Several drawings were pinned to the wall of original concepts for Bärchen’s body and what he would look like. At the center of the room sat a plush, rather large chair that could accommodate Bärchen’s massive size. Red and velvety, the chair had deflated over years of repeated abuse. Bärchen sat his doctor down in the chair, leaving the man to hug his spindly body as he went to light the fireplace. The monster made sure to grab a blanket on the way back to Edgar, but it was unnecessary. The Doctor was already asleep by the time the monster made it back to him. He smiled, a warm feeling bubbling up in his dead chest as he placed the blanket over his counterpart. Settling on to the cold floor, he watched over the doctor as he slept. He occupied himself by studying every feature on the doctor’s face as he had done time and time again. The way his nose shaped into a button, or how the number of freckles he had changed each time Edgar counted them. Eventually, as Edgar’s body fully relaxed in his sleep, his hand flopped away from encircling his body and fell on the armrest toward Bärchen. Ever so gently, the beast took his creator’s hand, holding it close until sunrise.


	2. whoever you want to be.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small doctor man brings his magnum opus to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so fucking long im so sorry

“Are you certain this is what you want?” The entity asked as she stirred her tea. She sat with perfect posture, back poised completely straight and her legs crossed beneath her gown. Dyed black and immaculately detailed, her dress hung off the sides of her chair. It was a classical mourning gown, the only missing piece being the veil for her face. To any outsider, she would have appeared human. Her mannerisms were too perfect though, too uniform for a mortal to have performed. Her eyes would stay glued to the man across from her even as she adjusted her hair or sipped her tea, and her body would not sway even when she breathed. Her perfection in her graceful movements was enchanting, and she captivated Edgar’s attention completely. The Doctor would have never thought that the devil would be so elegant. 

The two sat in a completely pitch room that appeared to be endless, continuing on for eons. A light illuminated the oak cocktail table the pair sat at, but from where the light shone from Edgar could not be certain. The only thing on the table was the tea set the demon manifested upon their arrival. It was odd, a sizable black teapot with detailed moss colored paintings of mushrooms and frogs. It seemed to originate from the 17th century, as it had clearly been worn from decades of use. When questioned about its origins, the demon smiled gently and replied. “It was a gift from my wife.” Edgar finally looked up at the woman, having been busy staring at his lap and burying his nails into the calloused palms of his hands.

“More certain than I have been on anything else in my life.” The Doctor’s voice was steady, not a hint of nerves. It was true, after all. Edgar was willing to trade anything to bring his work to life, even willing to trade his soul. Religion had led Edgar to believe the Devil a harsh man, but she was in fact quite polite in her negotiations. Civil and reassuring, She promised Edgar that he would not be tortured in hell. Owning Edgar’s soul simply meant he would not go to Heaven. Purgatory would be complete darkness for eternity, and Edgar was fine with that in trade for finally creating his magnum opus. The Doctor was aware, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the demon may be lying to him. The freckled man found himself lacking care for that, though, for as long as he brought life to his creation he would be happy. The demon cleared her throat and set her tea cup down. She brushed out the wrinkles in her dress before snapping her fingers. The Doctor’s tea cup disappeared into the ether, and before him materialized a piece of paper along with a lengthy quill. 

“If you’re truly certain, then I need your signature. This will give you the brain of your creature. But before you sign, I need some final details. I'm assuming you want complete loyalty from your creation, correct?” She absentmindedly brushed a stray strand of straight raven hair behind her ear as she spoke. Vigorously, Edgar shook his head no, horrified at the idea. In the process of being horrified, Edgar had forgotten he had much difficulty ceasing repetitive actions. He had to grab his own shaking head to get himself to cease. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Hehe… sorry ‘bout that. No, I want him to be… you know... like a real person. I want him to have his own wants, not what I want him to be. I want him to be able to want whatever, just like a normal person. Like if he wants to blow something up he can go do that! Kablooey! Hehe.. or if he just wants to read he can do that too!” Edgar paused to wring his hands together under the table. “Or if he wants to leave, he can.” The Doctor could no longer look at the woman, fearing her judgement. The demon had never had such a request before. She snorted. 

“You’re certainly an odd one. Typically, when building a person, people are looking for a slave. But I can easily grant you what you wish for. Are there any other requests you have?” She picked up her teacup. The Doctor continued to stare at his hands, thinking long and hard about what he wanted for his creation. The Doctor did not want to impose anything on his creature, he wanted pure freedom for his monster. He wanted to see what thoughts and feelings this new being would have without being prompted by any supernatural forces. “No.” Edgar finally spoke, tongue dry in his mouth. The demon extended her arm, pointed her finger and pressed against the dotted line at the bottom of the contract written up for Edgar. “Sign here please.”

When Edgar was brought home by the hospitable demon, he rather anticipated to discover the whole interaction was a fever dream. Closing the enormous manor doors behind him and hearing the familiar slam, Edgar expected to walk into his lab and see everything as he had left it. The auburn haired doctor expected his organized chaos, papers and books strewn about across the floor. He expected his creation to still be laid out on the cold table, strapped down and lifeless. What Edgar had not expected, however, was a medium sized black gift box wrapped in an elaborate lace bow placed neatly on the top of his desk. Without hesitation, Edgar frantically ripped the box apart, eyes wild and grin beaming with insanity, little giggle fits already leaving his throat. Inside the box sat the pulsating organ that was destined to bring life to his creation. A blackened brain, oozing with a foregin liquid, spilling with life and imprinted with the devil’s sigil. Edgar cackled as he watched the translucent obsidian liquid trail down his hands and forearms, eventually dripping onto the cold stone floor. The Doctor cackled, spinning around as he held the brain at arms length. “Look at you, you absolute beauty! Hehehe. Monstrosity! You will make meine Geschöpf perfect, won’t you meine Liebe?” 

The madman pounded across the lab, the liquid drizzling off of him as he approached his work. He placed the brain on a tray beside the patchwork man, full of sterilized medical equipment. Slowly, he stroked a single finger down the brain and watched as it pulsated in return. A chill ran down his spine and he savored the feeling, still grinning wildly. As he prepared his tools, Edgar spoke to the body on the table. “Felt like we’d never meet meine Geschöpf... But now you can finally have the gift of life! Or the curse of it, really.” He snorted, giggling to himself as he secured a pair of blackened, worn gloves onto his hands. Triple checking that everything was in place, the Doctor brought out his worn down step stool. Stepping up, he stood above his handiwork, staring down at him longingly. The creature’s eyes rested so peacefully, as if it were just sleeping. Pushing the patchwork man’s hair gently away from his face, Edgar let the hair dangle off the table, out of the way for his procedure. The doctor let his fingers linger on his creation’s forehead, feeling his cold touch. “Soon, you’ll feel just like the sun. All warm and fiery. At least, you better! Hehe..” Edgar gulped. Trying to push the idea of failure from his mind. 

Picking up a scalpel from the table beside him, he brought it to his brute’s skin. “Won’t hurt, promise.” With practiced hands, Edgar expertly sliced open the skin. Crimson blood oozed out somewhat, but due to the lack of life in his creation, the loss wasn’t major. Keeping the incision open with gauze, Edgar reached for the brain beside him. The skull had already been adjusted for this, already sawed in half beforehand. Very carefully, Edgar slipped the brain inside and let it rest in the skull. As quickly as the brain settled in the skull, it glowed red and filled the skull with the same oozing liquid that now covered the laboratory floor. Edgar did not question this, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth. Using a large steel plate, the doctor fused the skull back together. At the very end of it all, he stitched closed the wound on the beast’s forehead.

The doctor stepped down from his stool and did not return it, far too hysterical about the task at hand. He rushed to a machine sitting near the back of the room, enormous, towering, and covered in hundreds of switches. Edgar pressed several of the switches in a specific pattern memorized over the years of trying to bring his magnum opus to life. Electricity shot through the laboratory, causing the several light bulbs to immediately crack under the pressure. The doctor let out maniacal laughter as the sound of zapping electricity echoed through the laboratory. The freckled doctor looked closely for signs of life in his creation, eyes glued to the figure on the table. He waited, hands shaking, back hunched as he started to curl in on himself in anxiety. His cackling had broken down into little fits of giggles, before silencing. The creature hadn’t moved, not an inch. The body hadn’t even jolted at the electricity coursing through it. 

Edgar felt wholly and truly defeated. Everything had been attempted at this point, Edgar had even made a deal with the devil to bring his creation to life, but it was not to be. The doctor felt the world crumble around him as white noise filled his ears, numbing out all his senses. All he could feel was his heart plummet to the bottom of his stomach and boil in his own bodily acids. Thin, chapped lips trembled as the doctor desperately tried to hold back fits of laughter that filled in his chest and threatened to burst from his maw. The feeling became too much, and the laughter erupted forth from him. He began to sob violently, weeping and giggling all at the same time. Edgar was unsure of the time that passed as he sat there, eyes squeezed shut in emotional agony as he grieved. Complete emptiness filled the man. Edgar didn’t know what to do, he was completely lost. This creature, his masterpiece, was his life’s work. He could not give up, he refused to, but what was left to do? What other means could the doctor try? Nausea filled Edgar as it felt like the world spun around him, playing with him like he was a child’s toy.

While the Doctor succumbed to his misery, the body on the table was starting to twitch. Subtle movements at first, but eventually they became more driven. Lethargically, the beast tested each muscle he could move. He flexed his arms, moved his fingers and wiggled his toes. Eventually, the monster was able to form a weak fist with his stiff joints. It took a few moments, but the stiff joints stopped hindering the beast so much. The beast lethargically raised his arms up, muscles straining with the pain of the motion. Violently, with inexperienced hands, the beast pulled open his own eyelids.

The dim yellow lightbulb above him flickered, but the illumination it provided was sufficient for the beast. Light bounced off the metal table and reflected across the room, lighting up the dingy stone walls and machines lining them. The monster watched the dust particles dance in the air and the bugs scatter across the floor. He listened to the drip of a far off leak somewhere in the laboratory, and the gentle sniffle of another presence in the room. There were so many colors, the entire world a strangely vibrant place. Even his skin was different colors, some pieces pale white while others a dark, cocoa shade. Shakily, he raised his hand to the light, observing his skin. He flicked his eyes over each hair, each dip and curve of his muscular system working as he flexed each finger. The monster was in awe, mouth slightly agape in amazement at this new world he found himself in. 

Though having never been alive, he knew several things. He had been brought to life by The Devil, he could feel her sigil twinge in his brain as a reminder. He knew he was on Earth, though not where. He knew how to count and how to speak. As he opened his mouth to do so, he found his vocal chords were tight, dry and hard to use. Closing his mouth, the raven haired giant put the idea of talking away for now. The beast eventually looked away from his hands and began to scan the room curiously. He observed the machines, looking at their countless switches and unimaginable purposes. The man saw the books and papers strewn about, as well as several stained blueprints hammered into the old stone walls. Eventually, he reached the farthest corner of the room, where his eyes fell upon his creator.

Knees brought up to his chest, the man had curled into himself. His wild hair stuck out in every direction and shook with every snivel he made. The doctor’s hands were gripping at his knees so tightly that the action almost looked agonizing. Through the man's tattered shoes the beast observed the man’s toes burrowing into the soles of the leather, almost bursting through the bottom material. Edgar looked completely and utterly hopeless, which caused the monster’s heart to sink. Unnamable emotions flooded through the monster, and all he wanted to do was embrace the man across from him. The raven haired creature wanted him to stop whatever he was doing that instant. The beast attempted to move his stiff joints, but he found his gut, legs and feet bound to the table with leather straps. Rattling sounds of leather shuffling against the metal table echoed through the lab, bouncing off the old walls.

The Doctor instantly looked up, eyes wild with anguish. The beast looked over at his creator, meeting his eyes for the first time. The doctor’s eyes bore into the monster’s, seemingly getting more wild and frenzied the longer he looked. The beast just stared back, feeling confused but also elated at the fact that the man was no longer making those noises. Very cautiously, the doctor stood, hands outstretched and unsteady. The doctor’s feet slid across the ground, the man in far too much shock to fully pick them up. His fingertip eventually made contact with his creation’s gut, and he let the contact linger momentarily. Underneath his touch, the doctor felt the monster’s body as he breathed in a wheezy breath, his lungs straining against the leather straps. The doctor looked down at the monster’s mishmash stomach, then back up to his face. Edgar stared, completely mystified. Turning his head slowly to the side, the monster subconsciously demonstrated his confusion. The longer they both stared, the more butterflies filled Edgar’s stomach. The pooled inside him like roaches, crawling up his throat and making him feel fuzzy. He couldn’t stand it.

“Is this… are you..” Edgar’s mouth was dry and his tongue flickered out to lick his cracked lips. He couldn’t look away from his creation. A grunt was all the monster could provide, as he was unsure of what the doctor was asking. The sound echoed through the laboratory, bouncing off the high ceiling and ringing in Edgar’s ears. 

A gentle giggle left Edgar’s mouth as he started to smile, which quickly burst into a deafening fit of boisterous laughter. Grabbing his magnum opus’ face, he smashed it against his own, pressing together their foreheads and noses. Clammy hands traced down the creature’s cheeks, feeling each curve and dip in his skin. He pet over the monster’s bushy eyebrows and down his soft eyelids as he just stared at him. The doctor was wide eyed and laughing, his body overwhelmed by the delighted feelings surging through him. “Look at you, look at you! You’re alive! You’re breathing and beautiful and perfect! Hahahaha! Meine Schatz i’ve waited so long for you.” He pulled their faces away, turning his attention to the mishmash body. He brought up the raven haired beast’s hands and pressed their palms together, comparing the sizes. “Hands built to reign hell finally can! You could tear apart men if you wanted to! Hehehe…” He squeezed the creature’s palm before freeing it, letting it fall back down onto the table.

This was all so new to the patchwork man. The doctor’s compliments made him feel dizzy yet light, nauseous but delighted. The creature wasn’t sure if he despised the feeling pooling in his gut or never wanted it to end. Though he weighed several hundred pounds he suddenly felt weightless, like he could float away at any moment. With each passing second he could feel his face growing warmer as he was bathed in his creator’s attention. His fingertips burrowed into his palms as he was unsure what to do with these new found feelings. All these new things kept happening, and he was unsure about it all. Uncertainty was all the man found himself certain of.

“Ah! Those restraints probably aren’t too comfortable, let me get you out of those!” Unlatching the restraints, the doctor fully freed his creation. With labored movements, the patchwork man rose and began to stretch properly. Each of his joints groaned and creaked in protest. Cracking his knuckles first, he used his hands to fully pop his neck. The sounds of popping joints flooded the lab as the monster finished stretching himself, now arching his back. Standing beside the creation, Edgar watched in awe. The doctor was enchanted at how completely human his creation was behaving, even after just coming into existence. The freckled man was completely mesmerized, unable to look away even as he felt the drool leaking from his ajar mouth. Although the doctor thought he adored his creation before, now it was all he could feel. No longer could he see the flaws in his stitching and scoff at them, now he could only watch the creature’s fluidity as he brought his body out of its eternal slumber. In that moment, all the doctor could feel for his creation was love. Whether romantic or platonic, it did not matter. Overwhelmed with pride, the doctor could not help his staring. The patchwork man was beautiful, skin practically glowing in the doctor’s eyes. Edgar watched the creature breath, listening to the wheeze that echoed through the giant as he did so. The doctor gawked at the way his hair flowed so uniformly, catching the light with each sway of motion. The beast’s entire body moved with him, shifting and adjusting with every movement. The creature was a person, whole, real and mortal.

The monster glanced behind him, catching Edgar in his trance. Unsure of what to do, the creation sat there, eyes traveling up and down the freckled doctor’s thin form. Edgar shook himself out of his daze, hands wringing together. He had never felt quite so nervous before. The doctor felt an innate need to impress the creature, and he certainly did not want to embarrass himself. Adjusting himself, Edgar attempted to fix his posture and stand up straight for once. Quickly, though, he found himself hunching back in on his body for comfort. “You can get off the table, if you’d like.” Edgar gestured to the hard floor beneath the hulking monolith. Instantaneously, the colossal man dropped down onto the frigid floor. The beast’s entire body rattled with a shiver as his feet made contact, the surface unimaginably cool. The raven haired man wasn’t well clothed, only a burlap dress of sorts that fell just above his knees. Jumping in surprise at the man’s reaction, Edgar felt embarrassment wash over him. “Sorry! Should have warned you, really. This place is colder than hell frozen over. Hehe…heh...” He laughed uncomfortably. Gradually, the monster’s head turned, hair curtaining and completely obscuring his face. Staring down at the doctor, he sluggishly approached him.

Edgar had not quite realized how tall his magnum opus truly was. The doctor was not a short man himself by any means, standing at 6’3 when he stood up straight. Nevertheless, his creation was colossal, probably about 7’5 feet tall. Protruding but not obscenely large, the stomach the doctor had given his creation added incredible mass to the beast. When creating his work, Edgar wanted to insure no one would ever think to cross the creature. The freckled man figured that if he was a hunkering beast, no one would. Edgar gulped nervously as he continued fidgeting with his hands, watching closely as the patchwork man leant down to his eye level. Calloused fingertips brushed the beast’s hair behind his ear, and Edgar's body went still. As he stared into his monster’s eyes at his own height, he felt suddenly safe. Only seconds ago fidgeting and anxious, Edgar’s entire body suddenly felt like putty. The doctor had never felt so completely known by a stranger. His anxieties rushed out of him instantly, and the beast watched as he visibly calmed. The patchwork man opened his mouth, and with a very hoarse voice spoke his first words to the doctor.

“Who am I.” He spoke it as a statement rather than a question. Eyes filled with curiosity, the patchwork man desperately wanted to know. The raven haired giant must be human, as his first words were pondering the question all mortals ponder. He had only been alive for minutes, and he already wanted to know his purpose. Pondering the question, the doctor took his time with his answer. Shakily, he pressed his perpetually unsteady hand on the giant’s shoulder. The doctor looked his creation up and down, a wobbly smile beaming with pride forming on his lips. Decisively, the doctor spoke, voice teeming with delight.

“Whoever you want to be.”


End file.
